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by mechabre (tender_anaphylaxis)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Abuse, In that it's S4 Martin, M/M, Oh No! Only One Bed, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Season 4 Spoilers, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-21 18:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_anaphylaxis/pseuds/mechabre
Summary: It is difficult enough for Martin Blackwood to maintain his distance when he has somewhere to run.--chocobox round 5, martin/jon pining under a thin justification for them to be in close contact
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [quantumducky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/gifts).



> hello! let me preface this by saying that i haven't *finished* season 4 yet, so if i'm off with characterization or motivations, bear with me a little lol.

"Is the safe room even really safe anymore?"

"I don't know. Be quiet."

Martin does as he's told. There are noises out beyond the door, the kind of noises that hurt his head to think too hard about the methods by which they were made.

It was four in the morning -- a couple of hours since the last cleaning crew left, and a couple of hours before the others would begin trickling in for the day, and Martin and Jonathan were the only two inside the Institute when the creature appeared. Martin assumed it could have been from artifact storage as easily as anywhere outside, but truthfully, it didn't matter. He'd never even seen the thing. Jon had known before it happened, of course. It was uncanny. He'd grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to the safe room without so much as two words, without waiting for Martin to come up with some sort of excuse or reason to push him away.

They were so close, huddled by the door and straining to hear signs of their mutual doom. The cloth of his shirt was touching his arm. His skin was millimeters beyond that. Martin's skin prickled, and he felt queasy.

_Focus. Don't let yourself be pulled in. Rememebr what Lukas told you._

After some time, and with the same uncanny certainty, Jon leaned back from the door. "I think it's lost interest for now. But --" Another suspect noise. "--We should stay in here until it's left the premises."

"I really need to get back to work, Jon." Martin controlled his voice carefully -- annoyed, brusque. 

"Are you _seriously_ still thinking about--" Jon let out an aggravated rush of breath. "I will not _let_ you leave until the morning shift comes in, alright? Until then, you need to sleep anyway, so let me pull out the cot and --"

"No need," Martin said, quickly. "I'll sleep on the floor."

"Well, then _I'll_ take the cot."

There was a bit of tense activity as the two of them coordinated around the tiny space while Jon set up the cot for himself, and Martin tried to find a spot as far away from him as possible to curl up in. Once they were both settled, the light went out, the air heavy with uncomfortable silence, words begging to be said. 

It wasn't any better that way, though. Martin could hear Jon's breathing, a reminder that someone else living was in the room with him, and for all of Lukas's careful warnings, his walls were already weak for Jonathan Sims. How was he supposed to fall asleep like this? How was he supposed to keep his resolve? With every passing minute, he wanted to apologize -- to talk, to spill his guts, and Jon wasn't even using his influence. Humans were pathetic little creatures, weren't they? Even when he knew it to be the only way, his body cried out in chemicals for contact, to reach out, to grasp at other living beings like a rope in a storm, when what he needed was -- was to drift.

It took upwards of an hour for Jon's breathing to slow. Martin was a little surprised he still slept. His eyes had long since adjusted, and despite himself, he same closer, he looked. Jon had never looked so relaxed, even before things started to get weird. The permanent furrow between his brows was gone, the tense lines of his face smoothed into exhausted surrender, mouth slightly parted. Martin's chest ached.

Unable to look any longer, he laid down by the cot. It was a lost cause to think he might be able to get through this with his resolve intact. Lukas would be disappointed. Maybe even angry. He'd be set back weeks, months, perhaps even to square one.

Martin reached out. He grasped Jon's hand, dangling off the edge of the cot. Jon inhaled, shifted, then was still, sound asleep.


End file.
